The Little Porcelain Doll

"Moma! Moma, over here! I wanna see the dollies!" Cried a little girl, no more than eight years old, her blonde hair tied up in two adorable pigtails, running around the antique fair.

"All right, all right! Hold on…no, honey, don't do that!" She said that last sentence as the little girl dove between peoples' legs in an effort to get to the large tent. The woman rushed forward and grasped the little girl's hand firmly and walked underneath the tent. Hundreds of pale, porcelain faces looked out at them from behind glass windows. The little girl ran to the nearest ones, chattering excitedly about how cute they all were. The mother shuddered; she hated porcelain dolls and their creeping, steady gazes.

After several minutes, the two of them reached halfway through the tent and they stopped.

"Ginger, honey, could you wait here for a moment?" The mother said. "I need to go to the bathroom."

"Can't I come with you?"

"No," the woman said a little too quickly, "No, honey, I'll be right back. Just wait here, okay?"

The little girl nodded. "Okay." She said and pressed her face against the glass of the closest cabinet. The mother began walking away.

"Don't run off."

"I won't, Moma, I promise." The girl said. Content, the woman turned away and left.

The little girl spent the next few minutes admiring all the nearby dolls, but after a while she grew bored and sat down, leaning against the glass. The crowd had died down tremendously; there were only a few other people in the tent beside herself. Her mother had still not returned.

She began to grow afraid as the crowds diminished. Her mother should have returned long ago. The child had been raised to keep her promises and that was becoming increasingly difficult to do. She wanted to leap to her feet and look for her mother. What had happened to her? Had she gotten hurt, lost, or had she simply left her there?

There was no longer anyone else in the tent with her, or outside the tent for that matter. The sun was setting and the sky was a brilliant shade of orange. Trash littered the fairgrounds; the groundskeepers had not yet done their rounds.

The little girl placed her head on her knees and began to cry, silently lecturing herself for being so true to her word. She was alone and scared. Night was coming on quickly. She knew now that her mother had abandoned her, but why, she had no idea. Didn't her mother care about her? Didn't she love her? Why had she lied about going to the bathroom and then never coming back?

She spotted a soft glow out of the corner of her eye and looked up, her eyes red and slightly puffy from weeping. Her eyes widened as she saw the small, purple, winged figure flying in front of her.

"You're…" She began, wiping her tear-stained cheeks, "A fairy?"

The fairy nodded. "Why are you crying, child?" It asked in a soft, feminine voice.

The girl burst into tears again and buried her face in her hands. "My Moma left me here!" She sobbed. "She said she'd be right back, I don't understand!"

The fairy flew forward and lifted the girl's chin. The child sniffed loudly. "Do not cry, Ginger. It will be all right." The child suppressed a whimper, her lips trembling. "I'm afraid that woman was not your real mother."

"What do you mean?" The child squeaked in despair.

The fairy's violet eyes were sad as it spoke. "You were adopted, child. Your real mother couldn't take care of you, so she had to give you away. I'm sorry, but the person you know as your mother isn't really your mother."

The little girl wailed loudly and began sobbing with newly restored vigor. She was so frightened and confused and now she had no mother at all! Didn't anybody care about her? The fairy lifted her chin once more and she gazed helplessly into its glowing face.

"What do you wish for child?" It asked gently. The little girl sniveled loudly as she tried to bring oxygen back into her lungs.

"I just want to stop hurting." She managed to gasp out.

'If you wish it." The fairy whispered and leaned up and kissed the top of the child's head. There was a bright flash of purple light and the girl was gone, vanished from the world, and in her place was a tiny porcelain doll, barely two inches tall. Her skin was as pale as ivory, her hair was like spun gold, her eyes were as blue as sapphires, and an expression of pure joy was forever painted on her face.

The janitors did their rounds, the fairy long gone, and when they spotted the doll, they placed her in the glass cabinet along with all the other porcelain dolls. If they had looked deep into her eyes, they would have seen past her joy and seen loneliness, pain, and despair; all hope gone from her sparkling eyes.

Days rolled by and a great many people looked upon her smiling face, but no one bought her. Perhaps it was because she was so small and fragile, or maybe something else had caught her eye. Perhaps she was too expensive or maybe, just maybe, someone had looked into her eyes and saw what lie there.

The fair packed up and moved to another town, and soon another and another and another until nearly thirty years had flown past, and she remained the same; her face always smiling, her golden hair always shining, her happy/sad eyes glittering at anyone who would look her way. Waiting, waiting, waiting, always waiting for someone to buy her, to take her to a place she could grow to call home, or perhaps waiting for the fairy to come back and reanimate her. But she would always wait, gazing out through the glass; she would wait forever.


There you go. I'm thinking of rewriting this, it came out shorter than I intended. If I get enough reviews, I might keep working with this story, but I'm really busy. R&R! I'm open to flames.

Be sure to check out my work at too, where my pen name is "IEatChicken."